


Unexpected Consequences

by Illuminahsti



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Canon Divergence - Episode: s01e18 Juno Steel and the Final Resting Place, Consentacles, Other, PWP, Tentacle Sex, juno has tentacles, martian pill magic, miasma is mentioned but does not feature, tentacular spectacular 2k19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-24 18:59:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17709752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illuminahsti/pseuds/Illuminahsti
Summary: Juno swallows the Martian Pill. It does more than give him mind reading powers.(Or: Peter wants to get rawed by tentacles and still manages to top Juno, like the legend he is)





	Unexpected Consequences

Juno talked in his sleep, and moaned, and tossed and turned. Peter didn’t know how he still had the energy for it, when Peter was so tired that moving seemed impossible. And yet, he didn’t sleep; he sat, hunched against a wall, watching.

Juno’s nose was bleeding. Peter wanted to get up, to stem the flow, but they were out of bandages and both covered in blood, so it seemed pointless.

He moaned again, louder, gripped in a nightmare, and his back arched. His fingers pressed against the stone floor, looking for something to grip, and then he let out a high, pained sob, and Peter surged forward to wake him.

Juno’s eyes flew open when Peter touched his shoulder.

“Jun—“

“My legs!” Juno gasped. “My pants—get my fucking pants off.”

“Are you sure—“ Peter tried to ask, but Juno was already scrambling up, fumbling at his belt, his breathing fast and panicked. Peter helped him when it became clear that Juno’s hands were shaking too hard to do it himself.

Juno pushed himself to standing as soon as his pants were off, and stared down at himself.

Glistening, chestnut, tentacles grew from the small of his back, curled around his hips to slide down his legs. One lifted slowly, tip curling as if it was tasting the air. They all seemed to breathe, gently flexing as they took in new freedom.

“Holy shitting fuck,” Juno said, voice soft and vehement. “What the absolute, galactic fuck is going on.”

“I rather echo the sentiment,” Peter said numbly. His voice seemed to be coming from very far away.

Peter stared up at Juno, at his bleeding nose and his heaving chest, at the burn scars where all of Miasma’s electrodes had sat, and now at this new evidence, the soft, writing mass of tentacles that matched his skin tone, that seemed to breath on their own. One reached for him, and he put out a hand to meet it on instinct. It slipped between his fingers, warm and rough like Juno’s skin. Peter rubbed a thumb along the ridge on the bottom of the tentacle, and Juno jerked away. The tentacle followed, but slower, and it slid over Peter’s fingers like it didn’t want to be separated.

“What are you doing,” he hissed

“You touched me first,” Peter pointed out.

“I didn’t! That did.”

“They’re growing from your body.”

“They aren’t mine!” Juno shouted. “They’re some kind of growth, just like this fucking thing in my head, and I didn’t ask for either of them!”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, flooding sincerity into his voice.

“How can you be so calm, while this shit is happening?” Juno demanded. “How do you know you aren’t next?” While he spoke, the tentacles waved in the air, agitation clear.

“I’m not the one who ate a martian pill,” Peter said. “And I am only calm because there is too much to consider for me to waste time panicking.”

“Oh, I’m wasting time?”

“No,” Peter insisted, “Rather, I’m holding it together so you can have a well deserved panic. Would you like to hear some good news?”

“Good news?”

Peter glanced at the wall carvings, the pictographs he had spent long nights studying while Juno slept fitfully. “Those are martian tentacles,” he said, “which means that when Miasma manages to take the growth in your head out, she’ll be able to get rid of the tentacles too.”

Juno at least seemed to consider that. “If she doesn’t kill me, first.”

“Well then we’ll have bigger things to worry about, won’t we?”

Juno nodded a surrender. “They’re still—I mean—what the fuck.”

“Oh, certainly,” Peter said.

“You still have a knife on you, right? We could cut them off.”

Peter reached out and wrapped his hand around the tentacle closest to him. Juno hissed in shock. “Can you feel that?” Peter asked, voice low.

“Yeah.” Juno’s voice was rough.

“You want me to cut off four new limbs of yours with my pocket knife? I can’t do it, Juno.” He didn’t mean to caress the appendage, but his fingers explored anyway, slowly rubbing against the soft, new texture. The skin was thin, and muscles contracted under his touch when he pressed his thumb down. Juno whimpered.

“Does that hurt?” Peter asked, and withdrew his hand.

“N-no,” Juno said. “But it’s—I can feel it, and it feels—they’re really sensitive. But my brain knows I shouldn’t be able to feel it, so the whole thing is—weird.”

“Sensitive, eh?”

Juno took a step backwards. The tentacles, again, trailed behind, pulsating softly in the empty air between them. “Don’t—“ he said. “You don’t have to touch them. They’re...”

“Fascinating?” Peter suggested. “Elegant? Ethereal?”

“Disturbing,” Juno muttered.

“Curious, yes. But not disturbing...” Peter looked up at Juno. He was still kneeling, Juno still stood above him. Peter knew from the way Juno’s breath caught that some of Peter’s thoughts showed on his face.

“You aren’t serious,” Juno said. He sounded almost offended.

Peter chose his words carefully. “You could never disgust me,” he said. “You are beautiful and endlessly fascinating, and new limbs could not begin to damage those feelings. But now that you have them... well. I do love an experiment.” Peter let his gaze linger on Juno, on his face, his broad shoulders, his hips, where the waistband of his boxers was pushed dangerously low by the appendages coming from his hips, and then finally to the tentacles themselves. One had wrapped around Juno’s leg tightly. The other three reached for Peter—propelled by their own mind or Juno’s, he didn’t know.

“Oh hell,” Juno muttered. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?”

Peter smiled widely and knew he had won. “I’ve been told.”

Juno swallowed roughly. “I don’t—I have no idea what I’m doing with these.”

“I’m sure we can practice,” Peter replied. “Now, come down to my level.” Adrenaline surged through him, excitement tinged with fear. When he reached out a hand, the delicate tip of a tentacle traced over his palm and then then wrapped around his wrist. Peter took a firm grip and tugged.

Juno fell to his knees so they were nearly touching, his eyes fixed on Peter’s face. Peter looked down, at the tentacles now pooling in the space between their legs. When he ran his hands over them, caressed the seam along the bottom, Juno whimpered.

“Good?”

“It doesn’t feel like it looks like it should,” Juno said. He stared at the tentacles too, eyes narrowed in concentration. One slid slowly up Peter’s chest and settled, the tip right inside the edge of his collar. “I can’t... they’re doing whatever they want.”

Peter lifted one and stroked it, long and gentle, and Juno’s breathing hitched. “Perhaps we should take away the visual input?”

“What—are you—?”

“I could blindfold you,” Peter clarified. One tentacle brushed against the bulge in his pants, a feather light caress, and then withdrew. Peter fought to get his next words out evenly. “They seem to know what they want. Let them have their way with me.”

“What if they hurt you?”

“I have absolute faith in you,” Peter said. “And I will tell you if I need to stop.”

They should be negotiating boundaries while they weren’t touching, while Peter wasn’t overwhelmed with the sensations of Juno’s skin pressing over his thighs, between his legs, against his throat.

“And if I need to stop?”

“Only say the word, Juno.”

Juno swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. Peter fought back against the urge to leave a mark on Juno’s skin there, one of his own, a warning to whoever might try to hurt him next.

“Okay,” Juno said, voice thick. “Whatever you think is best.”

Peter reached for Juno’s shirt, and tugged it off. He reached for his handkerchief and carefully wiped Juno’s face, caressed his jaw as he did. Juno sighed and leaned into the touch.

“Lie back,” Peter commanded. Juno did, back into the thin bedroll, the pillow made of his trench coat, and looked up at Peter. His pupils were wide, cheeks flushed, and he gasped as Peter continued to touch his new limbs and then his old, ran his hands up the inside of Juno’s thighs and stopped his fingers just under the bottom hem of his boxers.

Juno let out a soft, gasping, “oh.”

One tentacle wrapped around Peter’s waist and pulled him forward, so he leaned over Juno, theirs faces inches apart.

“Sorry,” Juno whispered.

“Don’t be,” Peter said, and kissed him.

He tasted like sweat and blood and fear, and neither of them had known a toothbrush in a long time, but it was still kissing, and kissing Juno. It still made Peter feel like there was something worth fighting for in the world, and so he didn’t stop. He dropped his hips, brought his knees in tight against Juno, and kissed him deeper. Eight limbs wrapped around him, held him tight.

His clothes would have to go before they got any farther, because he could tell that soon he would be unable and unwilling to move away. He tried to push himself up, and was restrained. Juno’s hand was in his hair, fingers tightened into a desperate fist that sent tingles across his scalp; Juno’s other hand held held Peter right above the elbow, fingers bruisingly tight.

“Juno, darling,” Peter punctuated his words with a kiss to Juno’s throat, “let me up.”

Juno whined, canted his hips up so his cock brushed against Peter’s. “Don’t go,” Juno panted.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Peter promised. “I’m going to fuck you, but I need to undress first.”

Juno nodded, and his hands loosened their grip. His tentacles didn’t. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Peter stroked one, slowly, until it retracted from its place at his waist. Another untwisted from his arm, but then traced down his chest, pushed under his belt. Peter bit back a guttural moan.

“I can’t control—“

Peter kissed him softly before he pushed up, knees still straddling Juno’s hips, and pulled his shirt off. He folded it, wrapped it around Juno’s eyes, and Juno tilted his head up obligingly so Peter could tighten the knot. When Peter was done, he stroked his fingers along Juno’s shoulders, and he relaxed back against the ground.

“That’s my good girl,” Peter crooned. “You just relax and let me take care of you.”

As if this had been to command they were waiting for, Juno’s tentacles relaxed, slid off of his skin as Peter stood. Juno whined, “come back.”

“I’m right here,” Peter reassured him as he slipped out of his pants. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He knelt over Juno again, kissed his lips, his throat, his collarbone. Juno’s many limbs whispered over his skin, caressing every inch of him until he felt white hot. When he returned the favor, trailing kisses down Juno’s stomach and then mouthing at his cock through his underwear, Juno cried out. “Fuck me, Nureyev, that’s—“

“I will,” Peter promised. “But I want to take my time exploring you.”

A tentacle wrapped across his shoulders, pressed along his jaw. Another wrapped around his waist and slid between his ass cheeks. A third traced it’s delicate tip up his cock and wrapped around it. Juno’s hands reached for him blindly, but his new limbs had no such issues. They moved like they already knew every inch of his body. Peter shuddered at the overwhelming sensations, tried to think what to do next. He ran his hands up his body, over every tentacle wrapped around him. Juno moaned and arched his head back, revealing the long line of his throat.

Peter took the fourth tentacle between both his hands, stroked up it until it tapered thin enough for just his right to encompass it. He pressed his left hand against the flat of Juno’s hip so his thumb brushed Juno’s cock and the tips of his fingers pressed against the softer flesh of his belly. It kept him still and kept Peter grounded as he lifted his right hand, wrapped in tentacles, and pressed his lips to the smooth skin. He felt Juno’s hips buck up against his hand, and he pressed down, kept him in place.

By the time the tentacle reached the back of his throat, Peter’s mouth wasn’t nearly full enough of the delicate, finger like appendage. When he loosened his jaw and caressed the tentacle against his throat, it shifted and slipped into his mouth. He pressed his tongue up, folded it around the tips, moaned a choked moan as they pumped in and out of his mouth.

Juno’s hand wrapped around Peter’s left wrist, the other pressed into his thigh. He let out a long string of barely separated curses, hips writhing. “Fuck me,” he begged. “Fuck I want you inside me now, I’m dying.”

Peter chuckled around the tentacles nearly choking him, and Juno let out a cry. “More,” he groaned. Peter pulled his head back, and the tentacles, now covered in saliva, waved in the air in front of him, chased his mouth.

“No, Juno, I want you to fuck me,” he said, voice low and urgent. He leaned closer, so his mouth was near Juno’s ear. “Please, darling, you know what I need, don’t you?”

Juno nodded. Now that Peter was close above him again, their bodies flush from ankle to hip, Juno wrapped around him, arms around his neck, tentacles around his back, his hips, his thigh, and one, gently pressing against his entrance.

“Oh, Juno,” Peter groaned. “Yes, that’s perfect, more, please.”

When the tip pressed in, Juno’s hips pushed up too, moving their hips together. It pressed in deeper, flexing as it did, stroking his prostate. Peter let out a gasp and tried to thrust forward, but he was held tight in the writhing mass of limbs. The muscles of the tentacle inside him rippled along its length, flexed and tensed, and Peter dropped his head to Juno’s shoulder, now too overwhelmed for his arms to support him. Juno wrapped an arm around his back and fisted his hand in Peter’s hair, and a tentacle tightened around his chest, not tight enough to cut off his air, but solid and possessive all the same.

“Juno,” he panted. “Juno.” He fought for control of his voice, then urged, “Go on, give me more.”

A second tentacle pushed into him, stretching him. When he whimpered, Juno turned his head, kissed the corner of his mouth, found his lips and pressed his tongue in, swallowing the sounds, filling Peter’s mouth.

He used the last of his presence of mind to lift his hips and get a hand between them, pushing down Juno’s underwear and wrapping his grip around both their cocks. A tentacle joined them, twisting around Peter’s fingers. The tip slid against the head of his cock, now covered in pre-cum, caressing so gently and insistently that Peter struggled for breath. He thrust into his hand, too tied down to move as much as he wanted, but the tension in his thighs and hips mounted all the same as he slowly ground against Juno. The tentacle inside him slid out, and Peter cried out.

“No, Juno, come back,” he whispered. Then, before Juno could obey, Peter tipped over the edge and came into his hand. Any effort he made to support himself fled, and he lay against Juno, as close to him as it was possible to be, cries muffled against Juno’s neck.

The tentacles slid away, leaving his skin cold where they had held him. The rest of him was relaxed, warm and pliant, breathing in Juno’s skin.

Juno pressed against him, still hard, and let out a little whine. Peter pushed himself up and kissed Juno’s jaw softly. “Oh, darling, don’t worry. I wouldn’t leave you unsatisfied.” He took a minute just to look at Juno, spread out beneath him, cheeks flushed and lips swollen, breathing so heavy it sounded almost like a sob. When Peter wrapped his hand firmly around Juno’s shaft, he shuddered like he had been electrocuted.

“No—“ he gasped out.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hurts—“ Juno forced out.

Peter immediately let go, pushed himself further up. “Are you injured?” He could see no fresh marks on Juno’s skin, but when he brushed a hand along the tentacle closest to him, Juno shuddered again. “Tell me how to fix it,” Peter soothed, forcing the worry in his voice away. “I can’t see what’s wrong.”

Juno took several more heaving breaths, then said in a small voice, “Overstimulated, I think.”

Peter nearly laughed in relief. “Oh, that’s alright,” he said softly. He lay so he was pressed against Juno’s side, let the tentacles settle around him, and waited for Juno’s breathing to even out. He had to fight to keep his eyes open, warm and wrung out as he was.

“Lemme see...” Juno mumbled, gesturing at the blindfold. Peter obligingly pulled it off, then punctuated the action with a soft kiss.

When he could touch Juno again without him shuddering, he stroked his cock gently, traced his fingers over it with the same care that Juno’s tentacles had lavished on him. This time, Juno’s hitched breathing came with little moans of pleasure, noises Peter would have happily pulled from him every chance he got. It didn’t take long for the moans to get louder, for Juno’s tentacles to thrash as his back arched and he came. Peter watched, entranced, as the tension drained from his body and every limb slowly melted against the floor.

“Fuck,” Juno gasped. “Holy hell, Nureyev, that was—“

Peter trailed lazy fingers over the appendage laid on his hip. “I would say that went even better than expected, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Juno panted, and rolled so they were facing. His many limbs held Peter tight. “That was something else, alright.”

When Juno fell asleep, Peter played with his hair, nearly asleep himself but unable to shake the knowledge that he and Juno were in far over their heads, and that even if Juno was relaxed for maybe the first time since they had arrived, Peter would have to do something drastic to keep it that way.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this. I have no excuses, and I had a blast writing this. 
> 
> If you didn't like it, know that I almost wrote Miasma smut for this event and count your blessings.
> 
> You’re welcome, Sophie


End file.
